Remember the family "rassling" matches where our chief objective was to find out how in the world to tickle you without getting tickled first, and how you could somehow pin me, Eric, and Mom down with one arm and tickle us all at one time. We won on occasion, but only because mom got free and was the only one who could make you laugh.
Remember how you taught me to pitch in slow-pitch softball, and how we would practice in the front yard for hours. I could strike 'em out because you taught me how to pitch with an arch high enough to fool the batter, but drop right behind the plate. It got'em every time.
Remember how I could usually get out of a spanking with No daddy No daddy No daddy, pleeeeeease!
Remember that game we used to play, where I tried to match my footsteps to yours.
Remember how you could always help me with my math homework.
Remember how I used to show all my friends that came over this picture of you:
because I thought it was so cool that my dad used to have an afro, and "he even got it permed sometimes." (Heh heh)
I remember how you never missed a show, or a solo, or a game, or a recital, even if you had to drive miles and miles. That you've always encouraged me to follow my dreams, that you've always been right behind me, smiling, nodding, helping. That mom is the love of your life, that your work gave me opportunity, that your worry was my security. That I could look at you and know that my husband should be like that. And he is.
Thank you for loving me....